


The Bra's Not Even The Worst Of It

by Medie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Gen, Sexswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic cheats. It is a sneaky little bastard that trips you and then steals your lunch money. Or gives you someone else's so they pound you in the face. He did mention the sneaky bastard part right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bra's Not Even The Worst Of It

**Author's Note:**

> written for the HC_Bingo prompt: Surprise Sexswap

It's a spell, of course. It would have be to a spell. 

It's a spell, which means magic is real and Stiles would just like to register his freaking displeasure that _magic_ is _real_ and it has _stolen his dick_.

"My dick, Derek," he complains, stomping in the door, and not for the first time. Intellectually, Stiles knows that he should be missing a large part of his throat right now with all the complaining he's been doing. Hell, he's starting to annoy himself, never mind every wolf for a quarter mile. "They took my _dick_."

It's all bad enough, but the fact that it's magic means that he doesn't actually know who 'they' are. The spell was a trap, laid in wait in the woods, and god, Stiles doesn't really want to know who the hell would dream up a trap like _this_.

He huffs a sigh, grabs up the hair hanging against his neck, and waves a hand wildly. The hair is the worst. He totally needs to cut it before he suffocates. Really. If this is permanent, then he's going to the first chance he gets, but right now, he's waiting. Last thing he needs is to make this _worse_. With his luck, he cuts it, they change him back, and oops, say goodbye to an entire layer of skin. 

Isaac shifts from one foot to the other, scratching the back of his neck as he says, "Probably not a good idea to point out they at least—"

" _NO_!" Stiles all but yelps. Like, literally, yelps. He means it to come out as a yell, a shout, but no, _yelp_ and, god, this part is the worst. Everything's different and he doesn't know this body, doesn't know how to make it to what he wants to do, and he's going to have to learn and, god, he's so close to panicking that it's not even remotely funny. He sees Derek pinch the bridge of his nose and look to the ceiling, but Stiles doesn't care. He's got to let this out before he explodes. "Admittedly, I have spent more than my fair share of time admiring the female form," he glances at Erica, "Present company definitely included—"

She smiles and he manages to smile back before continuing, "But that does not mean that I _want one_." Or that the rest of the town shouldn't remember a thing about dick-having Stiles, because they don't. They don't remember him being a him at all. His dad, Scott's Mom, Allison's parents, the guys at the autoshop, the corner store, _everybody_ remembers Stiles Stilinski, the Sheriff's daughter. Sweet girl that one. Little not right in the head, but sweet. 

Yeah, that part just might be the one worrying Stiles the most. People should remember the real Stiles. The one with a penis and shorter hair and no curves where this body has them and, God, he hates magic so freaking much. Magic cheats. It is a sneaky little bastard that trips you and then steals your lunch money. Or gives you someone else's so they pound you in the face. He did mention the sneaky bastard part right? 

"Sorry," he says, realizing he is still glaring at Isaac. Isaac, for his part, is absolutely staring straight at Stiles' face and is in no way looking at Stiles', uh, new bits. The perky ones that everyone (who isn't Erica) refuses to look at. 

Yeah, not only did magic take his dick, it gave him a vagina and a really, really smoking rack. Like, seriously. Stiles would be staring at Stiles if not for the part where he is so freaked out right now. 

"It's okay," Isaac waves his hand, gesturing to Stiles' brand new body. "You're bound to be a little upset with all that going on, right? I'd be freaking if I were you." It's actually kind of a nice, having somebody show a little sympathy. It's nice having someone _know_. Isaac grins a little. "I guess we sort of know? I mean, not like I woke up with _those_ , but, sort of?"

"Yeah," Stiles agrees, "Sort of. I just wish I knew why me," Stiles says, glum, and sits down. He scratches at his shoulder and realizes the bra strap is digging in. Fucking _ow_. "How do you guys stand these things?" he asks, looking at Erica.

She shrugs. "We just do. It's not like we have a choice."

So, yeah, Stiles doesn't have his dick, but he is still totally acting like one. He winces and mouths an apology at her. She waves it off with a little smile and, yeah, he'll totally try on that pile of clothes she got for him later. He'll hate every second of it, but it'll make Erica smile and, yeah, he's good with that. 

Besides, he has a feeling he's going to need to get used to this. Fuck. 

"I don't think we're going to get an explanation, Stiles," Derek says. He actually sounds a little sympathetic. "We're working on who built the spell, but without the coven—"

"It's almost impossible," Stiles agrees. "At least no one but you guys remembers the real me, huh?" It's sad that he feels grateful about that, but he does. He really doesn't want to go home tonight and have his Dad interrogate him as to where his son is. It's bad enough that he's gotten the 'that Hale boy' speech twice this week alone and, from the rehearsed way his Dad says it, Stiles is pretty sure that it's a regular occurrence. Yay, his life. "Can you imagine trying to explain to my Dad where his son went?"

Erica snorts. "No," she says, a laugh in her voice, "but I think I'd love to watch you try." 

He glares at her, but then he sees Derek's lips twitch like he's trying to hide a laugh, and Stiles clamps a hand over his eyes. "I hate you guys," he says, trying and failing not to grin, "I hate you guys. So. Much."

"No, you don't."

Stiles lifts his hand, peering out at Isaac and the rest of the pack. Erica and her promise of lessons if needs be (a thousand blessings on her for the bra), Boyd and his easy acceptance of the whole thing, and Derek with a pile of books beside him, leafing through page after page, looking for an answer.

He smiles. "No, I don't."


End file.
